


You Look Like Hope (On a Rainy Day)

by princelogical



Series: Sanders Sides Misc. Work [21]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princelogical/pseuds/princelogical
Summary: After Patton died, the world turned grey. After Patton died, everything went static. After Patton died, everything went numb.or.Logan learns to live again.





	You Look Like Hope (On a Rainy Day)

**Author's Note:**

> My creativity returned… and he returned with some ideas in the form of a story. I tried to approach this matter in a delicate and hopeful way. I wish to remain respectful because I know this fic touches on several hard-hitting issues. Trust me, I had a difficult time writing it. If I messed up and missed the mark, please make me aware. Also, please heed the warnings. The suicide attempt is not graphically described but it is a greatly implied on how it went down.

In the middle of July, the coffee shop was full of energy and delight. Pamphlets were scattered on the tables holding creamers and sugar. Posters hung on all of the walls. Chatter filled the little building, allowing me to momentarily forget the summer heat and relish in the satisfaction of normalcy. The plastic bracelet that I wore stuck to my wrist, damp with sweat, and I slid my black dress-shirt sleeve over it as I approached the counter. I hadn’t bothered to take it off since I’d been released from the hospital two days ago. It was beginning to become repulsive.

“Hello, how are you today?” an employee asked (or more so, mumbled) in greeting, dark black eyeshadow around his eyes. The heavy black and purple hoodie he wore seemed impractical in the hot summer heat, however, one could argue that my choice of clothing was as well.

“I am adequate. And you?”

“Decent,” the employee replied. His badge read “Virgil” in smeared pen. I could smell the fresh ink. It was almost overwhelming mixed with the multiple smells of coffee, syrups, milk, and sweat. “What can I get for you?”

“I would like an iced caramel macchiato,” I replied, slipping my hand into my pocket for my wallet. Virgil tapped on the screen, totaling my order.

“Would that be all?”

“Yes.”

“Name?”

“Logan.”

“Do you have a rewards card with us?” he asked.

No. I didn’t. I had not expected to visit this coffee shop again after I visited it last Sunday, let alone another coffee shop. When the young woman had offered me a card last time, I declined. It would have been illogical to waste plastic on a person who would be dead the next day.

“Sir?”

I pulled out my credit card. “No. May I open one?”

“Sure. Uhm…” Virgil opened a little drawer and pulled out a laminated pamphlet with a card glued to the top. “You can register it on your phone or at a computer.”

“Thank you.”

“No prob.”

I handed him my card. It felt peculiar to touch something I was certain would have been shut down by now. Credit cards are unusable by a dead man. I shook myself from my thoughts and noticed Virgil’s eyes were trained on my wrist, on the bracelet. Just the taped edge of the soft white bandages on my forearm was poking out from where my shirt sleeve had just barely risen.

Virgil’s glance moved away from my arm, gaze still broody as it was when I had first stepped up to the counter, and shifted to the screen where he swiped my card. The payment began loading up, receipt preparing to print.

“I like your tie,” Virgil mumbled.

“Thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Want your receipt?”

“Yes, please.”

He handed it over.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.” I stepped aside. No one was behind me and Virgil coughed awkwardly as he grabbed a cup and scribbled my order onto it, handing it off to another employee.

“What are the festival posters for?” I blurted.

Virgil cocked an eyebrow. “Oh. They’re for the art festival next week. A lot of people like to sell their art there.”

“That sounds fascinating.”

“It’s pretty cool, I guess.” Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets. “I kind of like to walk around, listen to the music and visit the booths. You going?”

“I did not plan to.”

Virgil’s eye twitched to my arm and I slid it off the counter and into my jean pockets. “It’s pretty cool if you went. Lots of stuff to do. I go with Remy every year.”

“Remy?”

“My brother.”

“Ah. I will consider it.”

“Would you like my number in case you decide?” Virgil blurted, face tinting red immediately. “I mean, so I can show you around and stuff if it’s your first time, ya know? You know what? Never mind. It’s stupid anyway-”

I pulled a napkin from the holder on the counter, slipping a fine-point sharpie from my pocket and handed the items over. “I would like your number if you are comfortable.”

Still blushing, Virgil took the napkin and sharpie, scribbling down his name and phone number. “There,” he said, handing it back. “You can like… Text me or whatever.”

“Of course.”

“Iced caramel macchiato for Logan,” an employee called, extending the drink over the counter. I took it with a note of gratitude.

“I will talk to you later, Virgil,” I said.

“You too.”

I walked out of the coffee shop and took a deep breath as I approached my car.  Mother had always referred to it as a metal death trap. Father and she fought often about her unshakeable worry. But she was right. It is remarkably easy to die in a car. You can get involved in a crash. Carbon monoxide poisoning. Someone can break in and wait in the back with a gun to your head.

It happens.

I picked up the phone and dialed my brother’s number as soon as I was safely inside, doors shut and locked. It was smotheringly hot without the air conditioning on and the hot sun beating down on my windshield. I did not, however, start the car. The engine running would distract my thoughts and I needed my full focus on the conversation I was preparing to engage in.

“Hello?”

“Roman,” I said. “Hello.”

“Hey, buddy. Hang on.” There was shuffling and a door shutting. Then, “Back. What’s up?”

“Are you busy currently? I can call you back.” I reached up and wiped away the sweat gathering on my forehead.

“No. Just went into my room for some quiet. Some guys are over for studying. How’s my little bro?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“I’m all ears, Einstein.”

“It is… important.”

“What’s going on?” Roman asked, voice softening.

I took a deep breath and lost the battle with the heat. I started the car. With the loss of heat, my courage left as well. “There’s an art festival next week. Would you like to attend with me?”

|||

_It was twelve past one in the morning and I sat in front of the television, a telephone and notepad sitting beside me. The vents hummed above me, blanket wrapped around my shoulders to try to keep the cold out. It was fruitless. The cold had long ago settled into my bones, curling around my soul like a snake. Perhaps it was why I wanted to die so badly. Life had long ago lost its warmth. When I lost Patton, I lost the ability to feel. To live. To breathe._

_I was bleeding out. I knew the symptoms of blood loss like I knew the curve of Patton’s smile, the sound of his laugh, and the breathless way he made me feel. I had studied the symptoms. I had studied what would happen. I felt hazy. Shivering. The phone, 22% charged, sat by my notepad._

_My wrist kind of hurt. I leaned against the back of the couch. Breathing. Deeply. Shut my eyes. I longed desperately for Patton. To feel again. To feel alive. I wasn’t dying tonight- I had died long ago with Patton. I was just finishing things up._

_I didn’t account for my phone to start ringing._

|||

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Hello, Virgil. This is Logan

**Virgil --- > Logan:** hey. Wassup?

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Not much. I am considering going to the festival. I invited my brother to attend with me.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** Welp. As Remy would say the more the merrier or some other shit.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** woops, forgot to see if ur okay with cursing.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** I personally do not mind cursing.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** Good. cause i curse a lot.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Would we want to meet at the festival? At one of the booths perhaps.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** nah, trying to meet at a booth is a bad idea. we should meet at the coffee shop and I’ll carpool from there.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** That sounds adequate. Would you like to meet around 2:00 pm?

**Virgil --- > Logan:** sure.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Okay. Thank you.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** imma program ur name into my phone, okay?

**Logan --- > Virgil:** All right.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** coolio; my new friend. Remy’s gonna be proud.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** We are friends?

**Virgil --- > Logan:** sure. Unless u don’t wanna be.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Oh. No. That is… fine. Thank you.

|||

_I didn’t account for my phone to start ringing. It was past one in the morning. Why would anyone be calling me at such an ungodly hour? I picked up the cellphone with slippery and clumsy fingers, swiping the accept call button._

_“Hello?”_

_“Logan?” The voice was unbearably familiar. My heart soared._

_“Patton? Oh my stars- Patton-”_

_“Logan. Logan. Sweetheart-”_

_“Patton, I’m sorry. I’m coming.”_

_“No, you’re not,” he said. His voice was firm like it was when he spoke to children who were misbehaving or me when I got too caught up in realism to ignore the positives in life. Firm but in a way that told me he still loved me. Firm but caring. Firm because he cared. Firm because he needed to be, not because he really wanted to be._

_“What?” I asked, voice dropping. “Patton-”_

_“You’re not dying. You’re not ready,” he said._

_“You weren’t either.”_

|||

“So, this is Remy,” Virgil said hesitantly. He gestured to a man over a foot taller than me, wearing dark black sunglasses and sipping at a Starbucks.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a grin. “Virge’s told me all about you.”

“Has he?” I asked.

“All good things,” Remy said, looking me over once again with a wink. He returned to sipping his Starbucks.

I coughed. “Well. This is Roman.”

“And I bet you’re all delighted to meet me,” Roman said with a wink. Remy snorted. Virgil scowled.

“Cocky much?” Virgil asked.

“Confidence, more like,” Roman quipped back.

“An overabundance of it, to be fair,” I said. Virgil laughed.

“Well. To the car,” he said.

We made our way to a black SUV with a Planet Fitness bumper sticker on the back. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the SUV type,” Roman said. “Or fitness geek.”

Virgil scowled once again. “It’s my mom’s sticker, Princey. Any other complaints?”

“Nope- none at the moment,” Roman said with a smile. Virgil rolled his eyes and turned on the radio. A song from Evanescence began playing from the CD player and Roman’s eyes widened. “You… are an emo nightmare. My baby bro befriended an emo nightmare.”

“The first compliment I’ve received from you all day,” Virgil said.

Roman laughed. Virgil continued driving, playing all types of music that ground on Roman’s nerves the entire time. When we arrived at the art festival, I was immediately overwhelmed with the smells from different food trucks. Patton would be in heaven. I was never too fond of the greasy and overly-salted foods but Patton loved them.

We would always share a batch of nachos together.

“You okay, Logan?” Virgil asked.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and offered a tight smile. “Yes. Merely reminiscing.”

“Something good, I hope.”

“Oh, very.”

We made our way through the festival and visited different booths. Roman bought a scarf. Virgil bought a painting. Remy bought earrings.

I bought nachos. They tasted stale.

We sat together on a bench at one point, all talking, until Roman glanced at my arm. My breath froze as I realised my bracelet was poking from the sleeve.

“Logan and I have to use the bathroom,” Roman said.

“No, I-”

“Yes, you do.”

I followed Roman inside a portable restroom. The air was heavy, dank, and full of a pungent stench. Roman didn’t seem to care.

“What the hell is on your wrist?” Roman snarled. I swallowed. I should have taken it off. There was no point to wearing it. It was stupid. Silly. Illogical. Why did I need such a silly reminder that I was alive? Why did a stupid bracelet remind me that I had survived, that I was there, whole, and okay?

“Bracelet,” I said. “It is a bracelet.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Roman snapped, “but why is it a bracelet a patient gets in the _hospital_?”

“I had to go to the hospital,” I said.

“Why?” Roman yelled. An irrational whimper slipped from my throat and Roman backed away, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry… but… Tell me what’s going on. Let your big bro in a little.”

I leaned against the plastic walls of the portable bathroom and closed my eyes. “I attempted suicide.”

“ _When_?” It was a whine, quiet and begging. He wanted it to be a joke, I could feel the pleading in his eyes.

“A week before I called you.”

“Holy shit.”

I was trembling. My hands held onto my elbows tightly. I felt as if the air was being sucked from my lungs. I felt nothing, mind white with static.

“After Patton…” I choked out. “After Patton…” My shoulders were shaking. I sounded like a broken record, a scratched CD.

“Logan,” Roman said softly.

“I just… felt like I used up all my happy,” I said. The illogical thoughts were spilling without restraint. “Patton was my happy and he’s gone and I used it all up and I felt like it was over. My world turned grey. And I just wanted to be with Patton again because I really fucking hate the grey.”

Roman and I had a thing for metaphors. Poetry. But truthfully, there is nothing poetic or beautiful about death. It’s nasty. It shatters the most stone-cold and unfeeling of people. It shook me. It knocked me off my axis.

_Patton_ knocked me off my axis.

Roman pulled me to him and I sobbed. I heard Remy and Virgil whispering, hushed, outside of the door. I did not care. I sobbed until there were no tears left to cry, and even then, I did not stop.

|||

_“You’re not dying. You’re not ready,” he said._

_“You weren’t either.”_

_Patton’s voice was choked on the other end. “I didn’t have control over that, Logan.”_

_“I know,” I said. “Of course, I know that. You could never have-”_

_The car wreck played out in my mind like an old film, frozen on one spot then shifting to the next. I was driving. Rain. Too much rain. Slipping off the road. Losing control. Car flipping. Dialing 911. Chest compressions. Patton’s blue face. Rain. Sirens. More rain, more compressions._

_Time of death- 11:52 pm._

_“You’re trying to take your life. People need you, Logan,” Patton said into the phone. His voice sent shivers down my spine._

_“Not any more than you do.”_

_Patton’s voice was barely a whisper. “I will wait for you, my love.”_

|||

Virgil sipped his coffee and smiled across the table at me as I stirred my coffee. His eyes were warmer and less sharp than they were on the day of our first meeting. He looked at me like I was a particularly interesting viral video he had enjoyed (he had texted me many) or one of his favourite Blink 182 CDs.

“I like your tie,” he said.

I looked down; it was simple. Baby blue with grey stripes. Patton had bought it for me for our first anniversary.

“Thank you,” I said. Then, I decided to acknowledge the figurative elephant in the room. “I apologise for how things went at the art festival.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s all good, man. But honestly? If you didn’t want your brother to find out about your suicide attempt… you shouldn’t wear that bracelet around. With the bandages… it’s not too hard to connect the dots, ya know?”

“I know,” I said quietly. Ignoring that Virgil knew. Probably Remy too. “I took the bandages off yesterday. I can get the stiches removed soon. And then… therapy.”

Virgil took a sip of his coffee. “Good.”

“My apologies. This is an uncomfortable topic of discussion. We barely know each other, I…”

“You’re fine.” Pause. Then. “Why do you wear the bracelet? I assume you can take it off.”

I ducked my head down and took another drink of my coffee. “It reminds me that I survived.”

“Do you shower with it on? Or are you sacrificing showering for a reminder?”

I found myself laughing. “Yes, I shower.”

“Good.” Virgil smiled. His eyes crinkled and I couldn’t help my heart fluttering. He really had a dazzling smile.

_Forgive me, Patton_.

Almost immediately, I felt, in my soul, a gentle, _There’s nothing to forgive_.

“We should change the subject,” I offered. “Do you like…” I remembered one of Patton’s favourite subjects: Disney. “Do you like Disney?”

“Is this some form of twenty questions to get to know your date better?” he asked teasingly.

My heart stopped. “This isn’t a date.”

Virgil’s smile dropped an inch. “Oh. Yeah… Duh. I was just, you know, teasing.”

“I apologise, I was harsh and I-”

“You’re fine.” Virgil scowled at his hands then looked back up at me with a more defeated smile. “What were you asking me?”

“Do you like Disney?”

“Oh, do I?” Virgil asked, a little bit of the smile returning. “I do… but, not like… the happy ever after stuff. I like the darker side.”

I settled my chin into my folded hands. “I am intrigued. Explain.”

And, God help me, he did.

|||

_“I will wait for you, my love.”_

_I blinked awake, vision hazy and full of tears. My arm hung off the couch, blood hitting the floor. Suddenly, panic was spreading through my chest, through my body. My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone._

_19%._

_I dialed 911. I began to sob._

_“911, what’s your emergency.”_

_“Please help me. There is a suicide attempt.”_

_“Where is your location?”_

_I gave it to them._

_“Is the victim still breathing?”_

_I let out a quiet wheeze._

_“The victim is me.”_

|||

“Why’d you do it?”

I shifted on the blanket spread out in the backyard of Virgil’s house from where we were watching the stars. They glittered in the night like the glow-in-the-dark ones Patton had affixed above our bed. But those… the real thing was always 20x better.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Try to take a one-way trip to the afterlife?” Virgil asked.

I swallowed, thinking carefully over my words. “I lost my husband two years ago. After he died… I felt as if my life, one that was built around us… the naïve expectation that there always would be an _us_ … I felt as if my life was over.”

“What was his name?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Patton Sanders. He took my last name. I was… more than willing to share it with him.” I felt Virgil’s fingers gently slipping against mine, his thumb running over my knuckles.

“Tell me about him.”

“Is it not… awkward?”

“No,” Virgil said. He sounded sincere.

“He loved colouring. He always purchased colouring books from the dollar store. But never crayons. He bought those from the art shop. He’d fill them up with colourings and I hung them on the fridge.” I swallowed. “He played the piano. He loved games. We played a lot of games. Especially Scrabble. He never beat me. Not once.”

I paused. Virgil squeezed my hand. I continued. “We played word association games together. He tap danced. He loved cats but was so damn allergic. He’d pet them anyway. We wanted to get a dog.”

“A dog, huh?”

I nodded. “He loved everyone. Even people who didn’t deserve it like his mom. He was gentle too. Always careful about how people felt. He got really sad sometimes but he spent those days trying to make everyone around him happy. He loved puns. He got along with Roman and they were best friends. He loved to cook. Adored it, really. His favourite thing to make was pizza. He loved life.”

“He loved _me_.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“He was. He was the love of my life.” I took a shaky breath. “Losing him was the worst hell I have ever experienced.”

Virgil squeezed my hand again.

“I miss him so much.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “You… You have a look in your eye sometimes. When you look like you’re not here. Like you’re in another world, with someone else.”

“I like to pretend he’s still here sometimes.”

“No shame in that.”

“You have to understand.” I sat up. “I can never replace him. I can never forget him or just…”

Virgil smiled gently. “I know. I don’t understand. I never can. But I’ll try to.”

“It’s nothing against you,” I whispered, “why I approach this with such hesitance. I-”

Virgil pulled my hand closer and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. “I have severe anxiety. I understand the hesitance to a certain degree. We can take this… Whatever it is, as slow as we need.”

“We’re not dating,” I said quietly.

Virgil nodded. “Not dating. That’s fine. I’m good with… friends.”

“Friends,” I agreed.

We laid back down, staring back at the stars. I wondered, briefly, if Patton was looking down on us.

I wondered if he was smiling.

|||

_At the hospital, I was given stitches and put on suicide watch for 72 hours. I spoke to a psychologist. I was evaluated. They handed me a list of therapists and it seemed like forever until I was released. The bracelet remained on my wrist like a shackle. Part of me wanted to rip it off. Part of me wanted it to stay, reminding me what I had done._

_I rode home in an Uber, leaning against the window. I soaked in every detail of the world around me. The blurry skies, full of heavy clouds. It was going to rain. The worn roads. They needed to repaint the yellow lines._

_When I arrived home, I tossed my bag full of my belongings onto the couch, Patton and I’s couch. I curled against Patton’s spot, pulling his favourite blanket over myself. It didn’t smell like him anymore- time will fade that kind of thing. But pulling it around me was the closest thing his warm embrace that I would ever feel again._

_There was a stain of blood on the carpet, next to a stain of soy sauce that Patton had spilled twelve hours before he died and I had never been able to get up. Never been able to or didn’t want to was debatable. I closed my eyes. The house was hollower than ever._

_At that moment, I believe I realised I was alone. And I needed to start getting used to it._

|||

Roman and I had dinner together about a month after Virgil and I had stargazed; a month full of hanging out together, listening to music, watching movies, and other activities. We had takeout in front of the television so much that I had begun to memorize Virgil’s order. ~~Like I had memorized Patton’s.~~

Roman and I sat across from each other, quiet. I hated the thickness in the air between us. The way his eyes couldn’t help but trail to my arm where the bracelet sat, ink worn and smudged, beginning to collect dirt along the edges.

“Please stop staring,” I snapped finally.

Roman jerked his eyes away and forced a smile, stabbing into his pasta. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“You… you really should take it off.”

I fiddled with it then reached for my own fork and slid it into my lasagna. “I cannot.”

“Why not?” Roman asked. He sounded angry. “What does your therapist say about it?”

My heart shuddered and I grabbed my water glass, taking a drink. “It’s holding me down. Preventing me from moving on.”

“See?” Roman said. “I’m right.”

I hated his patronizing tone.

“I don’t deserve to move on,” I snarled.

“What the hell kind of thinking is that?” Roman asked, eyes filling with tears.

“If I move on, I’m abandoning Patton in the past. And that is not fair of me, to dismiss my _husband_ and just…” I lowered my fork. My appetite was long gone.

“You’re allowed to move on,” Roman said softly. “You are.”

“It feels cruel to Patton,” I whispered.

“Patton would want you happy.”

“With someone else?” I blurted.

Roman didn’t flinch. “Even with someone else.”

I went home that night in a trance. My hands reached for my scissors sitting in the kitchen drawer. My heart pounded in my chest, tears building up in my eyes. I levelled them above my wrist, edging on the plastic bracelet. With a single snip, the bracelet fell to the floor. I let out a gasp of relief and loss. My legs weakened and I felt myself pressing a trembling hand against my mouth.

The clock ticked from above the television, pounding in my ears. Patton and I used to sit on that couch and watch movies together on weekends until the sun came up. Then we would fall asleep, Patton curled against my side. We’d listen to the clock tick. Soft. Lulling.

The table. We’d sit and eat dinner together. Talk about our days. Patton never complained about his. I remember when I pointed it out. He cried. He told me that he never wanted to be a burden. I’d held him that night. I kissed him. I tried to assure him that he was not a burden in any way, any shape, or any form.

The stairs. He’d slide down in clothes’ baskets like a little kid, laughing with glee at my exasperation. Then he’d reach the bottom and pull me close, kissing me, burning with passion. I could never contain my smile in those moments.

He told me there was nothing in the world he loved to see more than a smile on my face. Me being happy.

Patton… Patton loved love. He loved being in love. He loved watching people in love. He loved people remembering to love, learning to love, and loving with no bounds. Patton loved love. Patton loved me. Patton loved when I was in love because it made me happy. And there was nothing Patton loved more than me being happy. 

I picked up my phone and wiped my tears.

_Is this okay?_ My heart thudded as I pulled up Virgil’s contact. There wasn’t much of an answer. There was no perfect assurance, as I believe there never is. But I felt a surge of gentle courage. Gentle love. And gentle longing.

It felt like, _Yes._

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Date night?

**Virgil --- > Logan:** r u flirting w me?????? O.o

**Logan --- > Virgil:** I am merely asking if you would like to go on a date with me.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** where? when?

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Tuesday. 10:00 pm. Some costume party Roman is throwing.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** u know my answer.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** (it’s yes btw)

**Logan --- > Virgil:** I am very happy to hear that.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** u gonna pick me up in a fancy car?

**Logan --- > Virgil:** Not my mom’s SUV, that is for certain.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** Jerk.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** u sure ur ready… to, u know, get back into the dating game? Bc I can wait. I really can.

**Logan --- > Virgil:** I am ready. I think. If you do not mind going slow.

**Virgil --- > Logan:** bitch, I got anxiety. Going slow is my middle name

**Logan --- > Virgil:** You told me that your middle name was Foster…

**Virgil --- > Logan:** nvm. ;)

|||

_I spent my time after the hospital trying to get back into a routine. Back to feeling alive. Back to normal. I called the therapist’s office. Left a message. I called my insurance. Left a message._

_I visited the coffee shop and turned around, didn’t enter._

_I came back the next day; I felt like it was, as Patton would say, “calling to me.”_

|||

When I picked Virgil up, he looked so beautiful that my heart felt as if it were going to leap from my chest. He wore a suit and tie, hair styled so that it wasn’t dangling in his eyes as usual. He had beautiful eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be?” he asked.

“James Bond.”

“You make a sexy James Bond.”

My heart fluttered. “Thank you. Who are you?”

“The Man.”

I didn’t ask what that meant.

At the party, we talked, laughed. I ate so many crackers with cheese spread that my stomach began to ache. But I hadn’t laughed so loud or smiled so bright in years. Roman stood off to the side, sipping a glass of wine, with a small smile directed my way. I smiled back.

Eventually, people were making their way to the dance floor. Virgil and I refused to participate in the line dances. Patton used to love them. He would embarrass me with his enthusiasm, dancing like a tipsy suburban dad. Roman would always laugh. I did too.

When a slower song came on, Virgil gave me a shy glance and I knew what was coming.

“Wanna dance?”

I stood, setting aside my snack plate. “Yes.”

We made our way to the dance floor. Virgil circled his arms around my waist. I gently rested mine on his shoulders.

His eyes were dark and warm, similar to Patton’s. His smile was sharper than Patton’s but it was genuine. He smelled like roasted marshmallows and faded cologne. Holding onto him felt like I was slipping and stabilizing at the same time. The music played softly as we swayed and Virgil’s hands remained around my waist, my hands resting on his shoulders. My hands were shaking. The world was coming into focus, warm colours spreading and bleeding into my eyes.

Patton’s voice was a soft whisper in the back of my head. _It’s okay to be happy again, darling. It’s okay. It’s okay. I love you._

A tear traced my cheek. Virgil frowned. “You okay?”

“I am… I am okay. I am happy.”

Virgil smiled softly, hesitantly. “Good.”

Courage rushed through me, an unknown beast that hushed my fear and hesitation and any doubts in my mind. I hadn’t felt so illogical since I had met Patton, since I asked him to marry me, or when I had lost him and wept so hard my entire being felt as if it were shattering.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against Virgil’s. It was a declaration. _I’m scared but I think I love you. I’m scared but this feels right. I want this to work. I love you. Do you love me?_ Virgil kissed back. I knew his answer when we pulled away, a blush on his cheeks and a soft smile on his face. His hand reached up, knuckles brushing my cheekbones.

_I love you too._

I like to think, wherever Patton was that day, he was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated.


End file.
